The Reward is the Journey

Our relationships with the work we do are a subject to enter the therapy room with great regularity.  For many of us, how we are doing in our work has a significant bearing on how we are doing overall.  Hardly surprising, given the emphasis placed on work as a facet of our identities and the inescapable fact that, due to the fact we have bills that need paying, most of us tend to spend the majority of our waking hours at our places of work.   I am fascinated by the impact that how we employ our time has on us, and remain committed to exploring ways in which we can reduce stress, promote resilience and enhance creativity.  This deep-seated interest is something I hold as something more than an academic curiosity:  I am constantly thinking about wellbeing as a holistic working concept, and hope to share my observations and learnings as widely as possible, as often as I can.   I do this in my therapy practice, and in my mindfulness consultancy teach...

...finding joy in the ordinary; t aking pleasure in the simple things, like finding myself smiling whilst walking to the underground station. At the beginning of the year, I made a note to myself, to allow myself enough time to walk, when the weather permits, rather than getting the bus.   More often than not, the weather is not so inclement that I cannot walk.  It is just that I tend to leave insufficient time, thus robbing myself of the opportunity to spend 15-20 minutes outdoors before descending onto the Northern line. The walk, whilst not the most interesting, creates a spaciousness.  It is an opportunity to shift gears, and turn my attention inward, to notice where it is that I am at that particular moment.  Taking some time to see the sunshine, and feel the breeze on my face is like a dose of 'contentment'.   There are few people for whom the longer daylight hours do not positively impact.  At this time of year, it is not uncom...

Never before have I pushed the doors to exit the screen with such a sense of deflation.  I was not angry.  I hadn't taken any expectations in with me.  Other than to be entertained. Seems reasonable; given the ticket price.  No one forced me to go.  And fewer still had encouraged me.  But go, I felt I must. So I went.  We couldn't get tickets for the 1:15pm showing at the most local Picturehouse.  So we went a little further afield... ...And took our seats in time for the numerous adverts, and then the trailers for The Duke of Burgundy  (which, now, looks rather interesting), Still Alice (which I've been looking forward to seeing since I first learnt about it) and The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (which will, with that stellar cast, surely be brilliant). Having been reminded that there are membership options more than once, the title and the BBFC's classification finally made an appearance. 'Strong sex and nudity...

Charlotte is preparing for her second round of this second chemo series.  The nausea came, and was contained with super strength antiemetics.  Whilst energy levels and breathlessness serve to remind us of the alien's antics, the schedule permits some important reprieve and I have been delighted to spend some very chilled out time with someone who truly understands the meaning and value of 'rest'.   She remains one of the greatest teachers I've ever had.  And I've had some goodens.  Her humble acceptance of life on life's terms continues to inspire me.  Her humour through it all never ceases to amaze me.  It's contagious and my own life is injected with meaning by her exceptional wisdom, strength and hope.   And then there's her fortitude.  This week's activity schedule included a breathlessness workshop and a session on the turbo trainer...  Charlotte remains an athlete.  She knows her body and she respects her dynamic limi...

Swimming is my medicine.  It's as simple as that.  I got back in the pool following a traumatic incident that sent my body into shock in 2010.  The pool became far more than a body of water:  it was the site of healing at a physical, mental and emotional level. I didn't think about it:  I couldn't.  I just swam.  I wasn't counting laps, or even time; I made my way to the pool and felt my way through the water. Nearly 5 years on, I'm still swimming.  I try to prioritise time spent in the pool.  It is part of my essential maintenance.  Last week I swam three times.  Each swim was different.  No two swims are ever the same but some are more memorable than others.  These days, a great many of my swims are 'good':  they enable me to switch gears, and let go of whatever I might need to. Just occasionally, I get into the pool and, within the first 3 or 4 lengths know it's going to be a 'great' swim.  These...